A Little Bird and A Little Angel
by word puzzler
Summary: Ezra lost his parents, and then he lost the person that saved him. For years he would visit the grave and talk, just to feel close to that person again. This didn't change even after he joined up with the Ghost crew. Every time they stopped back on Lothal he'd make an excuse and go visit the grave. It was only a matter of time before the crew got curious.
1. The Discovery

**_DISCLARMER_****: ****_This is a blanket disclaimer, I will NOT be repeating it! So please pay attention! _****I don't own anything of 'Star Wars Rebels.' Not the names, places, characters, concept, nothing!**** They belong to the creators/writer/authors/ect which does not include me, sadly.**

(Sort of) Extended summary/explanation: Ok readers! This is a requested work and as such it contains some minor and possibly major spoilers for my other work. Also, my work hours doubled over the past week so updates to Weight of Shadows will be a little late this week. Also, it give me great pleasure to announce that this is the first work (hopefully of many) to be edited by TrojanHelen101, my wonderful editor. (Hopefully, I fixed all the grammar problems she caught.) M'k, that's all, enjoy!

_Italicized words = memories, visions, Force speak, voices heard over the com, and general emphasis._

Underlined words = alien/non 'Basic' language

Line breaks indicate changes in perspective, time lapses, scene changes, and the like.

* * *

**The Discovery**

Years later he would look back at this day and want to laugh. Not because it was funny, no, nothing about the day had been remotely funny. It was the sheer irony of how it all started that made him want to laugh. How many of his adventures, the pivotal moments in his life started the same way? With a question?

If he was honest all of them had started that way, with a question. And almost every time someone had said something along the lines of 'curiosity killed the cat.' He'd ignore them, ask the question, and then proceed to do whatever it took to get the answer. That day it seemed fate had decided it was time for _him_ to be on the receiving end of that curiosity.

Truthfully, for a long time he'd hated them for their curiosity, for making him relive that horrible memory, for dragging all those painfully and ugly emotions out into the open. A small part of him still hated them for that, but a larger part of him was relieved they had done it. Relieved he didn't have to hide it anymore, that he could share it. "Closure" Hera had called it. Whatever it was, he was glad it had happened, it had allowed him to finally put the past behind him and let him get closer to the crew.

Yes, years later he would find the irony amusing, ever so slightly amusing. But he would always wonder who _had_ asked the question that started it all. Blue eyes would stare out, gaze unfocused. He would heave a sigh and voice the same thought he always did.

"I bet it was Zeb."

* * *

"I can't believe we're doing this," Zeb muttered.

"It was your idea," Sabine whispered back. "And don't tell me you're not curious."

"Curious, yes, but when I asked if anyone knew what the kid did I didn't think we'd be spending all day finding out. And why are they so _obsessed_?" He asked, nodding his head toward Hera and Kanan, both of whom wore expressions of utmost seriousness.

"Yeah," Sabine agreed. "That is a little weird. Any idea what's got them so. . .?"

"Obsessed?" Zeb repeated and Sabine nodded. "Not a clue."

"Sh!" Hera hissed at them.

Zeb and Sabine exchanged looks.

"You'd think we were breaking into an Imperial facility," Sabine whispered lowly. "They must be really curious about what Ezra's doing."

"Wish I knew why," Zeb mumbled. "Kid's not _that_ interesting."

Despite their grumblings, neither Zeb nor Sabine stopped following after Hera who trailed a little after Kanan as he tracked Ezra through the Force. So far they'd been walking for most of the morning, and the only thing they'd seen was the tall grass that made up Lothal's plains. Endless, boring, unchanging plains.

"There he is," Kanan muttered, coming to a stop at the top of hill. The others surged forward, eager to see what lay at the end of their journey.

"Where?" Sabine asked, scanning the valley below. "Is that his tower?"

Zeb looked where she was pointing and nodded. "No wonder the kid's always late, we're at least 30 klicks***** from the _Ghost_."

"What's he doing all the way out here?" Sabine asked, heading in the direction of the tower.

"Sabine, he's over there," Zeb said, pointing in the direction Kanan was headed. Squinting, she could just make out a faint blue glow.

"Told you he was playing with his lightsaber," she smirked, nudging Zeb with her elbow.

Zeb bit down hard on his tongue to keep from saying the rather lewd comment that sprang to mind. Now wasn't the time, but he would definitely tease her later. . . When he was sure she wasn't carrying any 'miracles.'

* * *

"–and I can't wait to see their faces when I use the hidden feature I've installed," Ezra said, swinging his lightsaber through the air one last time before deactivating it and hanging it back on his belt.

He'd spent the last few hours going over everything that had happened during his time at the temple and every little detail of how and why he'd built his lightsaber the way he had.

He dropped down in front of a patch of blue flowers.

"I know you would have loved to add your own touches," he continued, unaware of the approaching audience. "You always had the best ideas when it came to unexpected surprises."

His shoulders slumped slightly.

"I'd give anything to hear them," he told the flowers sadly, gently brushing the petals of the nearest one.

"Ezra?"

He stiffened, heart somehow managing to race and stop at the same time, and slowly turned around.

* * *

A name carved into a rock, a small collection of planted flowers that quite obviously hadn't grown there naturally, and the way he spoke in a quiet, almost forced cheerfulness that did nothing to hide the undercurrent of pain. It didn't take them long to put the pieces together.

A grave. Ezra was visiting a grave. They had followed him to a grave.

Sabine was the first to recover.

"Who's–?"

"**_Don't say her name_**!"

Sabine jerked back in shock at the shout. The wind whistled as Ezra struggled to regain control of his emotions.

"What are you doing here?" His tone was soft and emotionless, but the slight quivering of hands and the set of his jaw showed how much their presence was affecting him. He shakily stood up. "_Why are you here_?"

Kanan grimaced, he might not be the most empathic of Jedi but Ezra's emotions were coming through loud and clear. Anger, fear, and panic were the dominating emotions, but there were strong undercurrents of pain, sadness, and betrayal. Kanan winced internally as the last one registered, but it was too late to back out now.

"We were worried about you." Hera answered seeing as Kanan had yet to speak.

"We were?" Zeb mouthed at Sabine.

She shrugged, just as confused as Zeb as to why Hera and Kanan would be worried about Ezra.

"Why?" Ezra asked defensively, crossing his arms and glancing around.

"The second presence was back," Kanan explained, stepping forward and ignoring the confused looks of those behind him. In front of him Ezra paled considerably.

"Back," he repeated weakly.

'She was telling the truth,' he thought. 'She never left.'

The revelation made his head spin and it felt like his heart was caught in a spinning tornado of conflicting emotions.

"Wh-what?" he asked distractedly.

"I've been feeling a second presence around you almost constantly. At first I didn't know what it was I was feeling," Kanan admitted. "It was always there, so I guess I assumed it was just part of who you were or that I was reading the Force wrong. But, it came and went which confused me. If it was part of you then it would be constant, so the fact that it could come and go. . ."

Kanan sighed and looked at Ezra. The boy's eyes were wide, he looked scared and sad, so very sad.

"I need to know that this. . . _thing_ isn't going to hurt you – hurt us."

"Never!" Ezra shouted, angry that Kanan would even think such a thing. Blue eyes met firm, unyielding green and he swallowed. "–would never hurt anyone."

"_You_ might know that, Ezra, but _I_ don't."

There was a long silence and Kanan watched as Ezra looked away, staring at the plains with an expression of pained concentration. He hoped the boy would trust him. It was obvious that whatever this presence was it was very important to him, but that just made it more dangerous. For all he knew this presence could be the spirit of a Sith trying to sway him to the Dark Side, or worse. And if Ezra was as attached to it as he seemed. . .

Of course, given the grave in front of him that theory was becoming obsolete. But like he'd said Kanan didn't know, not for certain, and he wasn't about to risk the safety of his crew and Padawan. Especially not after he'd just gotten Ezra back from his inadvertent trip to the edge of the Dark Side. He was not about to let anything, not even a spirit, drag his apprentice back to that side. If that meant he had to hurt Ezra. . . Well, better hurting and safe here in the Light, than lost to the Dark.

Hera, Zeb, and Sabine watched the exchange. None of them knew what was going on exactly, but they could piece together enough to know that Kanan was worried something was threatening Ezra, and possibly the rest of them, and that Ezra was at least somewhat aware of what Kanan was talking about and didn't think it was a threat. They were curious and concerned, but they didn't dare interrupt to ask for clarification. The tense air between Master and Padawan had them feeling that they were standing on the edge of something. Something that could go very wrong or very right.

"Fine," Ezra whispered.

Kanan's shoulders relaxed and the tension in the air eased.

"It's her," Ezra turned to the stone spire. "I think you've been sensing. . . **her**."

"Who is she?" Kanan prodded.

"My–" Ezra swallowed. "She was my 'sister.'"

To say the crew was shocked would be an understatement. They were floored, but Ezra didn't give them anytime to absorb the news as he pulled out a small circular object. He looked at it for a minute, weighing it in his hand, before pressing a few hidden buttons. The sound of static filled the air.

"You want to know who she is? Fine." Ezra turned to face them. "This is what she told me, her story, as much of it as she ever told me anyway."

He pressed another button and chucked it at Kanan, who caught it. The others gathered around as the sound of voices drifted from the object.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

*** **If I did the math right, roughly 18.5 some miles. The average person just strolling along takes about 18-20min to walk a mile which would mean the distance would take about 5.5 hours. Considering they're all in really good shape they probably walk a mile at the same pace most people speed walk (about 10min) which would mean they'd have been walking for about 3-4hrs. (My inner nerd came out again. T.T Sorry, but hey! Now ya know.)


	2. The Tale

**The Tale of a Little Bird and a Little Angel**

* * *

_"Once there was a bird." _The voice sounded far off and hoarse, but it was obviously a girl's.

_"A bird?"_ The voice was closer and sounded incredibly young and familiar.

_"Yes, Mi Cielo, a bird. Now stop interrupting."_ The sound of a throat being cleared. _"The bird loved to fly and sing, and she was a very pretty bird. Because she was such a pretty bird all the other birds loved to play with her, and the bird was happy."_

_"Why a bird? I want an _exciting _story! And I thought you were going to tell me _your_ story, how you ended up all banged up, and–"_

_"If you're going to keep interrupting you won't get _**_any_**_ story," _the girl's voice snapped back. After a few minutes of silence the girl continued.

_"Now, as I was saying. The pretty bird was happy. Until she laid an egg. She didn't want the egg, because having an egg meant she couldn't go flying with the other birds like she wanted to. So the pretty bird hated the egg and each day she would peck at it, hoping it wouldn't hatch so she could go back to flying and singing."_

_"Why didn't she want it to hatch?"_

_"Ezzrrraaa! If you keep interrupting I'll never finish!"_

_"S-sorry. But why didn't she want it to hatch? I thought birds wanted baby birds." _The honest confusion behind the question was both endearing and sad.

There was a long sigh followed by the sound of something being hit and a muffled yelp.

_"Hush and listen! By the end of the story you should understand and if you don't, I'll answer your questions **after** I've finished. Ok?"_

_"Ok!"_ Ezra's voice whined.

"Aww! You sound so cute!" Sabine teased and Ezra gave her a tight smile.

"She said that too," he whispered. "Must be a girl thing."

_"But it did hatch and the pretty bird became a momma bird." _The girl continued the story. _"Now the pretty bird **had **to go flying again so she could find food to feed the Little Bird, and she did. And for awhile she was a good momma bird until. . ."_

The girl's voice faded away and when she continued it was in a flat, emotionless tone.

"_The pretty bird loved to fly and each day she would spend longer and longer flying with the other birds and forget to feed the Little Bird until she came home to sleep._

_"The Little Bird didn't care. It didn't know any better. The only thing it knew was that its mother bird loved to fly. So every day while the pretty bird was gone the Little Bird would flap its tiny wings and try to fly. But it never could. It was too small and too weak._

_"This happened day after day until one night a storm came and lightening struck the tree the pretty bird and the Little Bird were sleeping in and set it on fire. The pretty bird got scared and started to fly away. The Little Bird called out, hopping after the pretty bird and flapping its little wings. The Little Bird still couldn't fly and it needed its momma to save it. The pretty bird looked at the Little Bird, then at the fire, and finally at all the other birds flying away._

_"The Little Bird watched its momma bird fly away._

_"The Little Bird was so surprised and hurt that it forgot about the fire, and the fire caught the Little Bird. The Little Bird got scared and it jumped, but it still couldn't fly so it fell._

_"The fall broke one of the Little Bird's wings. The Little Bird cried until the storm went away and the sun came up._

_"A man heard the Little Bird. He took it in, gave it food, and made the pain go away. The man said the Little Bird could stay, but it would have to help the man. The Little Bird thought the man was kind so it agreed._

_"When the Little Bird said 'yes,' the man smiled and said it would teach the Little Bird all sorts of 'tricks' and to call him 'Master.'"_ The word was spat like the worst curse.

'So that's why he hates the word so much.' Kanan thought, hiding a wince.

_"The Little Bird didn't know what the word meant, didn't know what it would mean, so it happily called the man 'Master.'_

_"The man taught the Little Bird many 'tricks.' Tricks to take things from other people, to make things disappear. They were bad tricks but the Little Bird didn't know that and every time the Little Bird did a trick the man would feed the Little Bird, smile, and say he was happy."_

Zeb closed his eyes. He knew what the girl was talking about, he'd seen it before. Children taken in by gangs and taught to be thieves, used because they were small and could easily go unnoticed.

_"This became the Little Bird's new life and though it was happy, the Little Bird still wanted to fly. Every day the Little Bird would flap its wings and try to fly, but all it could do was flutter. Until one day it flew." _The girl's voice filled with wonder and joy, and the depressive atmosphere lightened.

_"It flew and flew and flew, and it never wanted to stop. The Little Bird was so happy and it wanted to show the man. But, the man didn't like it."_ Bitterness filled the voice.

_"He didn't want the Little Bird to fly because he knew if the Little Bird could fly it would leave him and he didn't want that. The man got angry and told the Little Bird it should never fly again!_

_"The Little Bird was surprised and sad. It wanted to fly, but it also wanted to make the man happy. So the Little Bird folded its wings and walked. **But, oh, how it wanted to fly!**_

_"Then one day the Little Bird got an idea; it would fly where the man couldn't see it! That way they would both be happy."_

'It's not going to work, is it?' Sabine thought sadly.

_"Whenever the Little Bird was alone it would fly and stop when the man was around. For awhile it worked, but one day the man saw the Little Bird."_

'I knew it!' Sabine's hands clenched into fists.

_"The man grew angry, very angry,"_ the girl continued, voice low and tight. _"He caught the Little Bird and he broke the Little Bird's wings saying it was bad and deserved to be punished. When he was done hurting the Little Bird he threw it in a cage and left."_

Hera was tense, it sounded far too much like slavery. It _was_ slavery as far as she was concerned and she longed to stop the story. To hold the hurting boy in front of her and hide him away from the pain it was causing him, but Kanan's hand kept her where she was. Though by how tightly his hand was gripping her arm, she knew he wasn't any happier than she was.

_"The Little Bird cried, scared and confused. Why was the nice man so mean now?_

_"Eventually the Little Bird's wings healed, but it was too scared of the man to try to fly or even leave the cage. Days went by and the man got meaner. Finally, the Little Bird had enough, it was going to leave and it was going to fly far, far away from the mean man._

_"The next time the man opened the door the Little Bird jumped and flew past the man. It tried to leave, but it was too weak and too slow. The man caught the Little Bird and he hurt the Little Bird. He broke the Little Bird's legs, pulled out its feathers, and beat the Little Bird. Then. . .then he did something horrible, something so completely unforgivable._

_"The man took the Little Bird's wings._ **_He took them away and he threw the Little Bird away!"_**

There was sobbing in the background, but the girl continued anyway, voice rough and broken.

_"It cried. It cried until it couldn't anymore and then it waited to die._

_"Only it didn't. The Little Bird was found again, this time by a Little Angel."_

_"Oh, is that me? That's me isn't it?" _Ezra's childish voice asked, filled with excitement_. "Why am I an angel?"_

He sounded annoyed and confused, and the frustrated sigh that followed the question told the crew the girl was not pleased at being interrupted. Again.

_"Ezra, this story is hard enough to tell without you butting in. If you interrupt again, I won't finish it," _she threatened_._

There was another brief silence.

_"Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. . .The Little Angel saw the Little Bird and took it home where __he__ begged his mom and dad angel to help the Little Bird. So they helped the Little Bird. The Little Bird didn't want their help. It wanted to die, but it was too tired to tell them._

_"The Little Bird was angry, and it hated the angels for not letting it die, but,"_ the girl hesitated._ "It especially hated the Little Angel."_

There was a gasp and the sound of scuffling.

_"What? Yo- you hated me!?"_ The cry was filled with hurt and betrayal.

There was a small pause followed by a sigh.

_"Just sit down and listen, Mi Cielo. Please?"_

There was another pause before the sound of rustling material told them Ezra must have sat back down. Though when the girl started speaking again her voice was even farther away, telling them that young Ezra had moved away from her.

_"The Little Bird hated how the Little Angel was always there, talking to it, trying to help. The Little bird especially hated how the Little Angel was always fluttering around, trying to fly. Every time the Little Angel tried to help, the Little Bird would peck at him and hurt him, but the Little Angel kept trying._

_"Slowly the Little Bird got better. It started walking again and its wounds faded to tiny scars. But its wings were still gone and the Little Bird stayed sad. One night the Little Angel heard the Little Bird crying for its missing wings. The next day the Little Angel took the Little Bird with him while he tried to fly. He gave the Little Bird a bright yellow coat to hide the missing feathers, and told the Little Bird that if it ever wanted to fly he would carry it._

_"The Little Bird got angry and said many mean things to the Little Angel, but the Little Angel didn't stop being nice._

_"Gradually, the Little Bird stopped saying mean things and even began helping the Little Angel fly._

_"Slowly the Little Bird became happy and it grew to love the Little Angel."_

_"Really? You love me?" _Ezra's voice asked, the desperation was painful to hear.

_"Yep."_ Ezra had apparently moved closer to the girl as her voice was just as clear as his now._ "The Little Angel became the Little Bird's world and that's what it called the Little Angel: Mi Cielo, 'my sky, my world.*****'_

_"But," _her voice hesitated slightly. _"But then the demons came. They came, and they took away the Little Angel's parents."_

There was a whimper and a muffled cry.

_"The Little Bird managed to hide the Little Angel, but not before one of the demons broke the Little Angel's wings."_

_"I didn't break anything," _Ezra's voice protested.

_"It's a metaphor,"_ the girl explained tiredly.

_"A what?******"_

There was groan followed by a sigh.

_"A metaphor. It means the wings are just, ah, symbols I guess, for something else."_

_"Oh. Wait, does that mean the whole story's a metaphor?"_

_". . .You're just realizing this **now**?"_

_"Um, yes?"_

There was muffled groan.

_"Of course the story's a metaphor. After all I'm not a bird, you're not really an angel, and neither of us can fly, right?"_

_"Right. So, um, what does it all mean?"_

There was a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan, and Ezra's voice chuckled uneasily.

_"I can't believe you're making me explain this,"_ the girl sighed._ "Fine, fine. Look, to fly is to, er, love, I guess. You can't fly without wings, right? And you can't love without hope and trust. When they broke your 'wing' what I meant was they 'broke' your trust. Your trust in people and life. Get it?"_

_"Got it." _There was a pause. _"Soooo, if the whole story's a metaphor, then the coat is actually your hat, right?"_

_"Right."_

_"So what do the feathers stand for?"_

_". . .innocence."_

_"Oh. . .I don't understand."_

_"I hope you never do," _the girl muttered darkly.

In the back of her mind Hera wondered if Ezra now understood what the girl meant. She really hoped he didn't, but given how much of life's cruelty Ezra had been exposed to she doubted that was the case.

_"So, when they broke your wing they broke a part of your heart, and well. . ._

_"The Little Angel cried. He cried for his parents and he cried for his wings. The Little Bird did what it could to help the Little Angel. It taught him all the tricks **that man**_ _had taught it so long ago. It healed the Little Bird's wings and taught him how to fly again. Slowly the Little Angel began to smile and laugh again, and the Little Bird was happy."_

* * *

The circular holorecorder turned off and lifted into the air, flying back to Ezra. He flipped it between his hands as he stared out over the plains.

"She never knew I was recording it," he told them. "I didn't even know I was. I found it and she would tell me stories while I messed with it. I didn't even realize anything had been recorded until a few months later. I knocked it over and suddenly heard her voice."

He laughed bitterly.

"Scared the parc out of me, since she'd been. . .

"There was a riot," he began softly, still facing away from them. "Back then it – Well, they, the Empire and the Imperials, they hadn't terrified everyone into silence yet and there were still people like. . .like my parents, who spoke out."

He snorted and shoved the holorecorder out of sight.

"When they were drunk enough, anyway." He sighed and when he spoke again it was with a detached sort of longing, as if he wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock but didn't want to deal with the pain of knowing he couldn't.

"The Changing Festival. It's not celebrated anymore, the Empire banned it, but it used to be. All over Lothal too. It was held twice a year for the whole week; once in the spring to celebrate winter ending, and again in the fall to celebrate a successful harvest."

He closed his eyes, and to the crew he suddenly seemed much older and worn.

"She – she loved the festival. She would always say it was because food and money and supplies were everywhere, and there was no way anyone could catch us because there were too many people and too much stuff going on." He huffed a small laugh. "I think she loved it because on those days it was easy to forget – to pretend we were normal kids just running around having fun."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

*** **A direct translation of 'Mi Cielo' from Spanish to English reads as 'my pet' but translate the English 'my world' to Spanish and you get 'Mi Cielo.' Just in case anyone is confused on the translation. For those of you that speak Spanish, I know this isn't a term that's used between siblings, rather between lovers, but I like the concept of her thinking Ezra is her 'world.' As for why Spanish? I wanted it in a different language, partly because I enjoy using other languages and liked the way it sounded in Spanish and partly because I have a really, really hard time believing everyone in the Star Wars universe spoke the same language. I know they have the 'basic' language but I felt a need for some variety and having her speak a different language, or at least use words from one, added a little depth. But that's just my opinion and as my editor told me:

(TrojanHelen101) I actually speak spanish and yes, I know that google translates it to 'my pet' but cielo actually means 'sky'. So saying 'mi cielo' would be the same as saying 'my sky', which fits better in my opinion considering she refers to herself as a bird.

So I'll leave it up to you, my loyal readers, which translation you prefer.

****** Ezra was orphaned at 7/8 and I don't know too many 7/8 year olds that know what a metaphor is. Also it was a convenient way for me to explain something that was possibly confusing. Call it lazy writing, but eh! As for why she knows even though they're about the same age? Well, you learn more on the streets, plus lazy writing I guess.


	3. Thier Last Day

**A****uthor's Note:** The beginning is an alternate ending to Unspoken Rules (that's the 2nd to last chapter in Street Rat Rules) and personally I like this one better and having been looking for an excuse to use it. This felt like a good opportunity plus it gives a little more insight into her mentality.

* * *

**Their Last Day**

* * *

_She broke the rules. She wore something ridiculously memorable. She trusted. She cared. She broke all of them and still managed to keep herself and him safe, alive, and, most amazingly, happy!_

_She did it, and for a long time she waited for it to happen; for her carelessness and selfishness to catch up to her. In a way it did._

_She went so many day__s__, weeks even, without food just to make sure he was fed. She went cold those few weeks in winter when she'd given him her jacket because he'd outgrown his clothes, there was nothing else to wear, and he wasn't used to freezing. She always made sure she was the one doing the dangerous parts; that she would be the one caught or cornered if it couldn't be helped. She let him see she was hurt, never how badly, and only so he would remember to be careful._

_She went hungry, she went cold, she got hurt and sick, but she didn't care. It was the price she paid for breaking those rules, and if it meant he didn't starve or freeze or get injured then she'd pay her due. After all, everything had a price._

_But. . . _

She shuddered, arms shaking from the effort of holding herself up. She glanced at her reflection; pale skin, sunken eyes, bones far too prominent, and her hair was lank and lifeless.

She bowed her head. She was wasting away. It was only a matter of time before all the abuse and neglect she'd suffered caught up with her and her body finally gave out. It really was a miracle he hadn't noticed; then again, she'd always been good at hiding things.

She coughed and a familiar, metallic taste filled her mouth. She spat and the sink turned red. Her body felt cold and a sense of dread filled her. She closed her eyes. She was running out of time.

_She made a mistake._

_She made a promise._

_A promise she shouldn't have. One she would never be able to keep._

_"You'll stay with me right?"_

_"Always."_

A hand pounded on the door.

"Come on, the festival's starting right _now_!" His voice was muffled by the door, but she could still hear the eager anticipation.

She took a deep breath and rinsed the last of the blood from her mouth. She placed her hat back on her head, pulling it low to hide the bags under her eyes, and slapped her hands against her cheeks to give them an almost healthy looking pink color.

She pulled open the door to see a pair of bright blue eyes blinking at her.

"I hope you're ready to go," she said. "'Cause we're not coming back until _I'm_ tired."

* * *

He was panting as he struggled to keep up with her. All day they had raced around, bouncing from place to place and stall to stall, but now the sun was setting and he was getting tired of constantly running around.

Of course she didn't seem to be slowing down at all, and he was certain he would have lost her by now if she hadn't kept coming back to shove things at him with a "Here, try this!" or a "Hey, look at this thing!" He had no idea how she could find anything in the mess of people and noise, but was glad she seemed to have no trouble finding _him_ at least.

"Can we get a drink?" he asked, making his eyes a big as possible. She rolled her own eyes at him.

"You don't need to pull the eyes on me," she laughed. "Come on."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd until the bustle up people thinned out. She stopped a few feet from a doorway and turned to face him.

"Wait here," she told him and disappeared into the building. A few minutes later she was back, two large drinks clutched in her hands. "Here ya go!"

"Thanks." He mumbled around the cup, resurfacing only when his cup was empty. He watched her bounce around, looking between him and Festival still going strong despite the late hour.

"Go already," he told her, making a shooing motion with his hand.

"But–"

"I can take care of myself," he interrupted, knowing her well enough to know what she was about to say. "And I promise to stay right here, so just go already."

"Weeeellllll. . .Ok, but you better be here when I get back!" She shouted as she disappeared back into the crowd.

He sat for a few minutes just resting and enjoying her unfinished drink.

"They're wrong!"

He jumped at the sudden shout.

"The Empire is nothing more than a parasite: taking and never giving anything back!"

He hesitated only a moment before moving towards the door and peaking inside.

A man stood in the center of a small circle, a large cup in one hand and making pointed gestures with the others as he shouted.

"I've seen what they've done. They've crumbled the once great Senate, ripped the life out every world they touched; taken the mighty, the great, the respected, and ruined them! All for the sake of making themselves stronger, and with no regard to the needs, not wants, _needs_ of the worlds they destroy."

He wasn't aware of moving into the room or getting closer and closer to the speaker, just that the man's voice, the passion behind his words reminded him so much of his father. He closed his eyes and listened, but instead of stranger in some unknown bar he was listening to his father as he spoke into the broadcaster. Any minute now his mother would join in, her soft voice the perfect counterpart to his father's; she was always the one to make the final remark, the one who drove the point home. His father would capture the audience with his passion, and she would make sure they remembered with her words.

Any minute now.

"Ezra!" It was a female voice, but it wasn't the one he was expecting. He also wasn't expecting a hand to grab his shoulder and pull him away from the man.

"I thought I told you to stay put," she hissed, eyes scanning him for injuries.

"I-I'm sorry. It's just–"

"I don't care," she interrupted. "We gotta go. Now."

"Wha- Why?" He glanced back at the man as she pulled him toward the door.

"Arrest the insurgents!" A voice, slightly muffled by the pure white helmet covering it, ordered.

"That's why!" She whispered, pushing him up against the wall and into the shadows.

"See?" The man he'd been listening to had climbed up onto a table and was pointing at the stormtroopers clustered by the door. "They won't even allow people to speak against them! It's a kriffing dictatorship!"

"Stand down!" The head trooper commanded.

"Tyranny!" The man shouted back and several of the people who'd been listening to him nodded. "Oppression!"

"Stupidity," she muttered, tugging him away from the drunk and rapidly angering crowd.

"Take them!" The stormtroopers surged forward, blasters humming threateningly, and the hand gripping his arm tightened painfully as she began almost running for the exit.

He wasn't sure what happened exactly, just that a shot was fired and suddenly the room was filled with screaming and shouting.

She changed direction and tugged him behind the bar, pulling him down and behind a crate. He wasn't sure how long they hid there before the sound of fighting and angry voices began dimming.

"Come on." She pulled him up and ran for the door.

He stumbled over the broken objects and more than once they were forced to dive for cover as a pair of fighters or blaster shots cut in front of them.

Outside was not much better; in fact it was worse as everyone was running around screaming.

She pulled him into a small break between the buildings. It was a dead end, but nobody else was there so for the moment it was safe.

"Alright, Ezra, look at me." She forced him to meet her eyes. "We need to get back to the tower. There's a good chance we'll get separated. If that happens just keep going and meet me back at the tower. Do not stop! Do not turn around! Do not try to find me! Understand?"

He nodded, heart racing.

"Shouldn't we go to the roofs?"

"No!" She shook her head and pointed up. "Every other shot is going skyward. If we go up we're more likely to be hit, and the sewers are too dangerous because if they collapse we'll be stuck there forever. Just stick to the walls and the back alleys, ok?"

"Ok."

She looked back into the street and he peaked over her shoulder. His eyes landed on a familiar figure. The man he'd listened to was fighting fist to blaster against a pair of troopers.

"Ready?" She asked. He bit his lip, watching as a stormtrooper landed a crippling blow. "Ezra, are you ready?"

"We have to help him," he whispered.

"What?" She looked at him confused, and followed his line of sight. "No. Ezra, we can't help him."

"Please." He begged.

"No." She shook her head.

"Please!"

"_He's not your father_!"

He flinched. It hurt to hear and he knew she was right. The man was not his father, but the man had the same feelings and passion as his father.

"I know, but. . . But he _feels _that same. Please," he begged. "I don't want to watch them take him away again! _Please_!"

She looked like she was going to refuse again, but something in his face must have stopped her. She closed her eyes, shoulders slumping in resignation.

"Fine. But you follow my lead." Her eyes snapped open and bored into his, her tone commanding his absolute cooperation. "You so much as _think_ anything but what I tell you, and I drag your butt back to the tower even if I have to knock you out to do it. Got it?"

"Got it!"

"OK, here's the plan."

She kept it short and simple, and in less than a minute they were moving.

The man was fortunately still on his feet, though that seemed a matter of luck more than anything and by the way he was swaying it didn't seem like that would last long. Not long was all they needed, all they could use.

She was the distraction and her distraction was violent and dangerous, but guaranteed to work. At least that's what she'd told him. It was his job to grab the guy and run as soon as an opening appeared.

She pulled out her knife and tackled the nearest stormtrooper. Judging by his scream she'd made it threw his armor. He didn't wait to see what she did next as the other trooper turned away from the man to face the newest problem and gave him the opening he was waiting for. He sprung into action, grabbing a fistful of the man's shirt and dragging him away. The man stumbled but thankfully didn't try to stay and fight.

The two of them managed to make it down a couple streets before they got separated

Walkers had appeared and were firing randomly at clusters of people causing an increase in panic and confusion. One of the festival stalls exploded and knocked them off their feet. He scrambled upright, looking around frantically. The man was staggering away. People were running around and he wasn't dumb enough to try and get through the stampeding crowd.

He ran. He ran until the sounds of screaming and laser fire became barely audible, and ducked into an alley. She had said not to wait for her, to go to the tower. She had absolutely forbidden him to go back, saying that doing so would only get him hurt and he wouldn't be able to find her anyway. She had said she would find him, just like she always did.

He slumped against the wall. He couldn't bring himself to go any farther. He was too tired and every step he'd run had left him with a deepening sense of dread.

He waited and waited, and at some point he fell asleep only to jerk awake in a state of terror.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and he needed to hurry. He followed the pull, not doubting for a minute it was leading him directly where he needed to go. The pull got stronger and stronger until he rounded a corner.


	4. Ezra's Reaction

**Ezra's Reaction**

***A/N**: This takes place in the past and the present. *

* * *

"I knew something was wrong. I don't know how to describe it. It – it was like she was screaming for me, but I – I didn't _hear i_t. I _felt _it. In here." He gabbed at his chest. "And that – it. . .It kept getting _louder_, but at the same time. . . I – I don't know, harder? Harder to hear, and I – I. . ."

His curled in on himself, his hand clenching above his heart. Even years later Ezra could still feel it, her wordless scream of fear and pain. He took a shuddering breath and his eyes drifted open, but what he was seeing was miles away and years in the past.

"I'd seen. . .bodies before. We'd stumble across them every now and then. Other people like us who'd just. . .hadn't been able to make it or had been too sick or injured or something. They just kind of. . . wasted away in the back alleys. She – she didn't want me to, tried to make it so I couldn't see them. But she wasn't always fast enough and. . . I saw them.

"I – I used to think they were just sleeping, you know? They looked so peaceful, like nothing was wrong. I never actually saw anyone _die_ before, just – just the b-bodies. But she – she–!"

* * *

She was still, so still, _too still_, but she was breathing. When he felt her breathing he thought that was good. He even smiled because that meant she was alive, and if she was alive she was ok.

But something was wrong. She wasn't waking up and oh mother! _What was that sound_? It sounded like she was choking and coughing and drowning and – and. . .

"S-Some – _**Somebody help me**!_"

She was in pain and he could feel it. It hurt so much! And someone was screaming. Was that him? Was he screaming?

"_Somebody help me_!"

Voices. Who was talking? What were they saying? Whose hands were those? Wait!

"_Don't touch her! Stop! Give her back!_"

He couldn't see and he couldn't move. Why couldn't he see? And he was choking on. . .on water? No, too salty. It didn't matter though because he still couldn't move!

"_Let me go! Let me go!"_

Whatever or whoever was holding him tightened their grip.

_"Please, just **let me go**!_"

* * *

"I don't know who it was, for all I know it could have been the people that killed her or the guy we 'rescued.' I'm still kind of surprised anyone even bothered. I guess I should just be glad whoever it was tried to help for whatever reason, but a part of me – a part of me _hates_ them!"

He knew it was wrong, but he still resented them. They hadn't done _anything_! They hadn't saved her at all. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't. . .

* * *

He screamed.

A piece of his heart was being ripped from him.

He screamed.

The place in him that always knew where she was, always told him when she needed him, the link he relied on to tell him he wasn't alone when he woke from a nightmare was being torn, _shredded_, **burned**.

He screamed.

She was gone and the pain of that loss was killing him.

He screamed, and no one heard or cared.


	5. Hera's Reaction

**Hera's Reaction**

* * *

Hera closed her eyes, it was easier to visualize that way. She didn't want to ask, his pain was brutally clear and she didn't want to cause him anymore, but she needed to know. It would remind her, all of them, why they fought. She took a deep breath.

"How did she die?"

Her eyes flew open at the sound of laughter.

Ezra was laughing as he turned to face them, a slightly hysterical smile fighting to stay on his face even as tears dripped down his face.

"I asked them that too. You know wha-what they did? What the doctor did? He gave me a l-list. **A list**!" he screamed. "You know what was on that list? **Everything!** Disease! Infection! Abuse! Malnutrition! Bu-but you know? He said she probably would have made it if she - if she hadn't be-been suffering from star-**_starvation_**!"

Ezra's knees gave out and he fell to the ground, hands fisting in the swaying grass.

"Do you kn-know what tha-that means?" he asked, voice cracking.

Hera's heart broke as she stared down at the boy.

"She didn't get enough to eat." The words slipped from her mouth, a rash attempt to break the pain filled silence.

"**_It means she_** **_lied_**!" Ezra screamed. "Every time I asked if she was hungry? If we'd make it? If she'd eaten? If she wa-was ok? She lied everyday! Every time I – I. . . And she _lied to me_! If she had just told me the **truth** I would've – and maybe sh-she . . ."

He was shaking too much to speak, choking on his tears.

"Why?" It was a barely audible question and when he looked up at them he wasn't a 15 year old teenager, but a scarred little boy desperately trying to understand. "Why did she lie to me?"

His eyes, so blue and intense, stared at her, begging her for an answer.

* * *

_"Don't lie to me!"_

_She froze as eyes filled with hurt and pain locked onto hers._

* * *

So that was why he hated lies so much. A person, _the_ person by the sound of it, that he had trusted had lied to him. Lied to him every day. Lied to him and while she had suffered, in the end he was the one that had suffered the most.

They had all suffered, many times in many ways, but Ezra had suffered it all so young and somehow that just made it worse. And now he was asking her why. _Why_ had he suffered? _Why_ had he been forced to go through so much? _Why_ had he been the one that had lost so much in such a tragic way? **_Why_**?

The question was a knife in the heart to Hera, made worse because he was sitting there begging her to give him the answer. She didn't know. She had no answer to give him.

At her silence Ezra's eyes filled with hopelessness as if her lack of answer had robbed him of the faith he had in her. He looked away and Hera closed her eyes.

She heard so many stories of how the Empire had ruined lives. She collected them. They were reminders, what drove her, gave her a purpose, and validated her reason for fighting. But it didn't matter how many she heard. The pain was never any less real to them, or her.

So Hera cried. Not loudly, she wasn't one for loud, hysterical scenes and body wracking sobs. No, she cried as others suffered, silently and unseen, but no less real.


	6. Sabine's Reaction

**Sabine's Reaction**

* * *

Sabine didn't cry.

Mandalorians didn't cry. She'd seen and done too much, and she still had her pride as a Mandalorian. But that didn't mean she didn't feel pain or sorrow. And she felt both right now, her heart breaking for what Ezra had suffered.

Sabine didn't cry.

She often joked she didn't know how, so instead she did what she knew how to do: she painted. Body moving instinctively, she crossed to the stone and raised her hand, trails of color following her movements.

Sabine didn't cry.

But that didn't mean she couldn't express her sorrow. Her paintings were her emotions, and unlike fleeting expressions that constantly changed and vanished her paintings were forever, eternal expressions of her deepest feelings only time could erase.

Sabine didn't cry.

She showed her sorrow, her compassion, in what she left behind. When she stepped back two figures flew above the name carved into the stone. A little angel and a little bird.

Sabine didn't cry.

Decades later people would stumble upon her painting. It would be faded from wind and rain, but to everyone that saw it the wear of time only made it more beautiful and tragic. They would stare the little angel and the little bird and cry, because Sabine's painting never lost the feelings she put into them.

Sabine never shed a tear. She cried through her painting.


	7. Zeb's Reaction

**Zeb's Reaction**

* * *

Oddly enough it was Zeb who moved first. He knelt by Ezra and pulled him close, gathering the boy in an awkward embrace.

"I know." Zeb's usually gruff voice was surprisingly gentle.

He felt Ezra shake his head, but there was no attempt to pull away.

"I know," Zeb repeated because, oddly enough, out of all of them he was probably the one that truly understood why the girl had done what she did. Why she had risked, and lost, her life for a stranger all because Ezra had asked her to help him.

She had said Ezra was her world. She would have given anything and everything for it, for him.

Zeb knew what that meant. He knew what that felt like because, while they had all suffered, he was the only one that had_ truly_ lost his world. While the girl's world had been a person, it was still the same thing and he knew that.

He knew what it was like to try, and try, _and try,_ and still fail. To watch everything you ever worked for, your world, your home, and the people you loved crumble away and be destroyed.

Zeb knew. So he knew the girl, perhaps even better than Ezra had.

But Zeb also knew Ezra. He knew what the boy was going through because even though Ezra had been the girl's world, for a short time she had been Ezra's, and he lost her.

And Zeb, he understood that. Better than all of them.


	8. Kanan's Reaction

**Kanan's Reaction**

* * *

Kanan was silent. As much as he wished to say something, anything, he couldn't. His mind was gone, trapped in a vision. He was standing not in front of a stone spire in the middle of the plains, but in the doorway of Ezra's tower.

* * *

In front of him a small boy of about 9 with big, bright blue eyes was leaning up against a girl wearing a bright yellow hat, and listening to her as he tinkered with a small, round device in his hands.

_"Slowly the Little Angel began to smile and laugh again, and the Little Bird was happy."_

_"The end?" Ezra asked, looking up._

_"I hope not," the girl laughed. "That's a pretty bad ending for a story."_

_"So, tell me how it ends," Ezra's pleaded._

_"Can't!" the girl chirped. "It hasn't happened yet. But you better give it a happy ending."_

_"How," Ezra yawned. "How do I that?"_

_"Well, you start–" she yawned widely and glanced toward the door. "You start by meeting a really great teacher."_

* * *

Kanan blinked as the vision faded away, but couldn't shake the feeling the girl had been staring straight at him. He stared at the boy in front of him being comforted by Zeb, trying to sort through both his and Ezra's wildly swirling emotions. Kanan stiffened. The second presence was back and stronger than ever. In fact, it felt like there was a person standing. . .

Kanan's eyes shot to the name on the rock and his heart skipped a beat. Standing there, head tilted slightly as she looked at the painting Sabine had just finished, was the girl.

"Ezra," he called softly, stepping forward and placing a hand on the boy's head.


	9. An Over Due Farewell

**An Over Due Farewell**

* * *

Ezra looked up at Kanan, blue eyes frighteningly wide and vulnerable.

"Look." Kanan gently turned the boy's head in the direction of the figure.

Zeb glanced in the direction and his inhaled sharply.

"What's wrong?" Sabine, who was standing in front of them and had her back facing the rock spire and the newest arrival, frowned. "You have a problem with my work?"

She glanced behind her and stumbled back with a yelp. "What the–!"

Hera opened her eyes to see what the commotion was about and gasped.

The ghostly, blue-tinted figure glanced at them. Eyes the same color as Ezra's inspected them one by one. First Hera, then Sabine, followed by Kanan, and finally coming to a stop at Zeb and Ezra.

She took a step toward them and Zeb instinctively jerking back, dragging Ezra with him and knocking Kanan over. She paused, a flash of surprise crossing her face, then smiled gently, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

"Zeb," Kanan said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Zeb's shoulder. "It's ok. She's not going to hurt us."

The girl stepped forward again coming to a stop a few feet in front of them.

Ezra struggled to stand up, but Zeb wasn't about to let him go. He was a little freaked out, forgivable since the dead were **not** supposed to come back. Especially not as semi-translucent, blue edged, ghost. . . _things_. Even with Kanan's mumbled assurance that it was alright, he was still reluctant to let Ezra get closer to the. . . ghost – spirit – thing.

The girl's eyes flicked from Ezra to him and the corner of her mouth twitched upward as if she knew what he was thinking and found it amusing. Blue eyes, the exact same shade and shape as Ezra's, stared at him, widening slightly in a pleading way.

Despite everything that he'd learned and the emotional wreck the day had become, the look made Zeb want to groan. It was the same one Ezra would use when he really, _really_ wanted something, and Zeb, though he would rather kiss Kallus than admit it, was a sucker for that look.

Exhaling slowly, Zeb released his hold on the boy and Ezra scrambled forward. He had to kneel to be at eye level with the girl but neither seemed to mind.

"I–," his voice faltered. What was there left to say? He'd said everything he'd ever wanted or needed to at the temple. Saying it again or adding to it, felt. . . wrong.

She smiled at him, in that slightly amused and exasperated way of hers.

"_It's time to let go and go home, Ezra_." The words were felt more than heard. "_You don't need me anymore._"

"But I still want you," Ezra whispered. "I still want you to stay."

She smiled, her whole face lighting up with joy.

"_You were the only one that ever did_." She hugged him, the action like her words was felt more internally than externally. "_Don't worry. I'll be right here._"

She placed a hand over his heart and the ache in his chest eased. It felt like she'd given him back the part that had been ripped from him all those years ago.

"_Besides, don't you remember what I told you? You can find me in the Force._" She winked at him and tilted her head in Kanan's direction. "_Ponytail will help._"

Ezra gave a choked laugh and looked at Kanan, eyes pleading. It wasn't necessary, Kanan had already agreed before she'd even suggested it, but the man nodded anyway and placed a comforting hand on Ezra's shoulder. When Ezra looked back she was gone, but her voice lingered.

"_Good bye, Mi Cielo._"

* * *

Zeb ended up piggy backing Ezra back to the _Ghost_, and for once nobody made any sort of comment. Zeb paused at the top of the hill, giving Ezra a chance to have one last look back at the grave.

"Good bye," he whispered.

As Zeb started forward again Ezra's eyes drifted shut.

A vision, he recognized that much, but it was what he was getting a vision of that confused him.

* * *

In front of him was, _him_. A much younger him, but still _him_.

_"Mi Cielo, my world."_

Oh, so she was sending him a memory through her eyes.

_"When you hope, I believe. When you love, I feel it. When you fly, I soar. Fly high, Little Angel, so my world can live on." She looked down at the boy lying next to her._

_He was asleep, which was the only reason she was being so open about her feelings. She was too afraid to admit them, to even think them, when someone else might hear. Her life had made sure she never could, but in the silence and safety of the night, for just this once, she would say what she was too afraid to._

_She picked up his hand and pressed her lips to his palm, a gesture she only remembered getting once, but meant the world to her. His fingers curled instinctively and she placed his hand by his heart._

_"Until forever ends, I love you."_


End file.
